Pigeon English (23 page)

The cement was still wet. The council man was gone for his chop. If you were going to do it, it had to be now. You couldn't plan it any better.

Lydia: 'What am I supposed to be doing here?'

Me: 'Just jump. It'll be brutal. Your footprints will get stuck and when it dries they'll be trapped forever. Then the ramp will belong to us and the whole world will know it. Not just the ramp, the whole tower. You have to jump quite hard though. You have to mean it.'

Lydia: 'That's stupid. I'm not jumping in that.'

Me: 'Go on! It will only take one second! You put your footprints in it and I'll write your name next to them so everybody knows. We'll both do it. I'll go first.'

I got all my blood together and stood in the right place, then I did a proper powerful jump onto the ramp with both my feet in a line. I tried to focus all the weight of my body down into the cement.

Lydia: 'It look's like you're doing a shit.'

Me: 'It's the best way. Just watch me.'

I counted to ten. I did a little twist to squeeze the last of the footprints out into the cement, then I jumped back off the side so I didn't mess it up. It worked a treat. It was perfect. My footprints were there in the cement, lovely and straight and new. You could even see the Diadora sign from the bottom of my Diadoras. You could see all the patterns and everything. It felt brutal.

Me: 'It's quite hard to get out again. The cement wants to stick to you. You have to give it more blood when you jump off. Your turn.'

Lydia: 'You're so lame.'

Me: 'Just do it, lazy face! You can't give a present back if somebody plans it for you. It's like saying you hate them.'

Lydia: 'OK, OK!'

Lydia pretended to be red-eyes but she wasn't fooling anybody. She gave it as much blood as me. She went into the shitting shape and built a proper big jump up. She landed right next to my footprints. She even counted to ten, I could see her lips moving.

Me: 'Now give it a little twist.'

Lydia: 'I'm twi sting, I'm twisting!'

She tried to jump back off the side but her feet got stuck and she nearly fell. She screamed like a baby.

Lydia: 'Help me, help me!'

Me: 'Don't panic, I've got you!'

I pulled her straight and lifted her out of the cement. Her footprints were there next to mine. They were nice and neat. All the lines were proper sharp like mine. She even loved it. Her eyes went all big before she could stop them.

Lydia: 'Quick and write the names before it goes too dry.'

I sat down next to the ramp and wrote both our names underneath the footprints. I had to push my finger quite hard to get the letters to come out. I could still read it. Asweh, it looked bo-styles:

Lydia was smiling from ear to ear.

Me: 'Happy birthday! I told you you'd love it!'

The cement on my finger looked like tea bread dough but it smelled like puke. If you don't get it off before it goes hard your finger will turn to stone. We washed off our shoes in a puddle, I used a stick to dig all the lumps out. Now the whole world knows about us. The footprints are there to tell everybody we were here. I can't wait until they dry. Guard them for me until they've gone hard, OK?

I will. Anyone wants to spoil your party they'll get more than they bargained for, I'll shit on anyone who gets too close. Do you want to know what I think? And I've been around long enough to have formed a few opinions. What your problem is, you all want to be the sea. But you're not the sea, you're just a raindrop. One of an endless number. If only you'd just accept it, things would be so much easier. Say it with me: I am a drop in the ocean. I am neighbour, nation, north and nowhere. I am one among many and we all fall together.

Or maybe I'm just a rat with wings and I don't know what I'm talking about.

I love it when you get a good surprise. Like the cement being there just waiting for us to write in it or like when you think somebody will be rubbish at something and then you find out they're actually brilliant at it. It was the same with Manik: nobody suspected him to be such a good goalie because he's so fat, but actually Manik's a brilliant goalie. It's impossible to score against him. Nothing ever gets past him. One time I kicked the ball at his head by accident and he didn't even move, he just kept on playing as if nothing happened. Only his eyes went watery, otherwise you wouldn't even know he'd been whacked in the head. After that we called him Superhands. He loves it, you can tell. Whenever we say it he smiles from ear to ear.

Everybody: 'Superhands saves it again! The boy's on fire!'

I didn't think Dean would be such a good climber because he has orange hair. I just didn't suspect it. But actually he's a brilliant climber. He's even as good as Patrick Kuffour (he can get on the roof of the comm. centre in three seconds flat. We all called him Monkey Blood).

Dean: 'Don't wory, I'll get it. I'm a wicked climber.'

We were playing gutter-to-gutter and I did a big banana shot and the ball landed on top of the garage. I didn't even know I could kick my new ball that far. It actually felt proud. Dean jumped on the wheelie bin then pulled himself onto the garage roof. It all happened proper fast. He made it look easy. He threw the ball down and I caught it. When I looked up at him standing on the roof it made me go quite dizzy. The sun was in my eyes. I heard wings but I couldn't see where they were coming from.

Dean: 'Come up, it's alright. I'll pull you.'

Me: 'Somebody might steal the ball.'

Dean: 'Don't be a wuss!'

Me: 'I'm not! Come on, 9-all. All square, next goal wins.'

He didn't want to come down. He loved it too much up there, you could tell. He was walking up and down like the king. He was laughing at the face of danger.

Dean: 'Hey, what's this?'

He picked something up. It was all wrapped up like a parcel. It was wet from the roof puddles and oily. The wrapping looked like clothes torn up.

Dean: 'Shall I open it?'

Me: 'Open it!'

Dean: 'Do you really want me to open it though? What if it's anthrax or human teeth?'

Me: 'Just stop vexing me and open it!'

He unwrapped the wrapping. There was a wallet inside. I could see it was a wallet even with the sun in my eyes. It was blue with black velcro.

Me: 'Is there any money?'

Dean: 'Hang on, it's all sticky. I'm coming down.'

He climbed down off the garage and showed me the wallet. There were darker stains on it. It smelled of rain. He opened it up and checked all inside. There was no money. There was something stuck in one of the pockets, the rain had turned it into glue. Dean peeled it off proper carefully: it was a photograph. When I saw it my belly went proper cold.

Me: 'That's the dead boy!'

Dean: 'Do you reckon?'

Me: 'I swear by God! He's even got his Chelsea shirt on.'

The picture was proper small and stained where it got wet. The dead boy was with a white girl. You could only see their heads and shoulders. They were both smiling from ear to ear. I didn't even know he had a girlfriend. She was nearly as pretty as Poppy except one of her eyes was pointing the wrong way but it might have been on purpose for a joke. It felt proper sad. I pretended like the dead boy was trapped inside the picture and it was too late to get him out. I wished I'd been there when he was chooked. I'd chase the killer away before he even got that far. I'd shout proper loud for the police or throw a rock at him or freeze him with my breath. I don't know why nobody did anything.

Dean: 'I'd kung fu him in the knackers.'

Me: 'Me too.'

Dean let me hold the wallet. I felt the sticky and said a prayer inside my head. It just said sorry. That's all I could remember.

Me: 'What do you think the sticky could be? Do you think it's blood?'

Dean: 'It looks like it, or maybe oil. There might be a print in there somewhere. Let's get it back to the lab.'

I didn't make Dean say the password, it's only for civilians. We pushed my bed in front of the door for security. Dean held the wallet still and I put the sellotape on over the sticky bit. I stuck it down nice and gentle so there were no wrinkles, then I pulled it back proper slow. The sticky stuck to the sellotape. I held it up to the light. No patterns, just one big smudge of dark red. No prints, nothing for a match.

Dean: 'Never mind, it was a long shot. We've still got the DNA if it's blood.'

Me: 'Taste it and find out.'

Dean: 'I ain't tasting it, it might have Aids. Just hide it, yeah? The blood creeps me out.'

I got some blood on my finger. It was only sticky. I wanted to eat it so the spirit could live in me but I was too scared from the Aids. I waited until it was dark before I washed it off. I wanted it to stay but in the end it got too itchy.

The hole where the tree used to be is all the way gone. It's all covered now, not just with grass but a hell of plants and weeds as well. You'd never even know a hole used to be there. Asbo did a big shit on the new grass. It's his new favourite shitting place. When he saw me he wagged his tail so hard I thought his arse would fall off. He loves me because I talk to him in a soft voice. That's how they know you're their friend.

Terry Takeaway: 'Do you wanna take it? Here you go.'

Terry Takeaway gave Asbo's lead to me. He let me hold it and everything. Asbo's very strong. He couldn't wait for me, he just started walking straight away. I had to follow him or he'd just pull me over.

Terry Takeaway: 'Tell him heel, then he'll stop pulling.'

Me: 'Heel.'

Terry Takeaway: 'Louder than that.
Heel!'

It worked. Asbo stopped pulling so hard. He slowed down and walked beside me.

Me: 'Good boy.'

Always tell a dog good boy when he does something good. Then he'll only do good things after that. They only know how good they are if you keep telling them. You have to tell them every time or they'll forget. Terry Takeaway showed me how to hold the lead the right way. If you hold it close to you, the dog has nowhere to go. Then he has to walk with you. If you hold the lead too far away, the dog will forget he's even on the lead and try to get away. In the end I was controlling Asbo. He stopped trying to get away. When I walked one way, Asbo came with me. When I stopped he stopped as well. Asweh, it was brutal. It felt like I owned him. It felt like he belonged to me.

Me: 'Asbo, look for evil! Sniff it out, go on, boy! Find that evil smell!'

Asbo was looking all around like he was on a mission. He sniffed a man's leg when he went past. I watched his face: his ears didn't move and his eyes didn't go big. No evil there. We let Asbo off the lead. He ran away but he came straight back. Mostly he was just running in a circle. He loves to run even more than I do. Then we did some tricks.

Terry Takeaway: 'Sit.'

Asbo sat down. He just sat there looking at us. He was waiting for us to tell him something.

Terry Takeaway: 'Lie down.'

Asbo lay down on the grass. He was on his back. His tail was still wagging behind him. I could see all his nipples and his balls. He loved it, you could tell. It was all a game.

Terry Takeaway: 'Paw.'

That was the best one. Asbo gave me his paw. I shook hands with him. It was very funny. He even did his tricks for me. He loved it. When I told him to sit he sat. When I asked for his paw he gave it to me. It felt brutal. I just wanted him to be mine. Asweh, it was the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Fingerprints are just for feeling with and to help you hold onto things when they're wet. They don't really mean anything. If you didn't have fingerprints you could be anyone you wanted.

Eyebrows are there to keep the sweat out of your eyes. I always thought eyebrows were just for no reason but they're not, they keep the sweat and the rain away. If they weren't there the sweat and rain would get in your eyes and make you blind. Eyelashes are the same. They're to stop the dust getting in your eyes. And bugs as well.

All the things you think are just there for no reason are actually to help you or protect you from something. The hair on your head stops your brain getting too hot when it's hot out and too cold when it's cold out. Your hair is a lot cleverer than you thought. Everybody has the same defences. They all have eyebrows and fingernails and eyelashes. Their hair is all in the same places. That way they all have the same chance of surviving. It's what makes it fair. It wouldn't be fair otherwise.